


silk and fur

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, cosplaying as your god's (ex)husband, spoilers for SiH 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 17:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Hadrian wears Samot’s cloak after all.





	silk and fur

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to maddie, for betaing, and for always

Hadrian tugged nervously on the sheer robes, pulling them smooth under the thick fur cloak, careful not to tear them. He’d never worn fabric so fine and, despite the magical nature of Samothes’ castle, the robes seemed to be made for someone less broad than he was, tight across the width of his chest. The pants, at least, were loose, although there was something about the way the light fabric moved as he walked that made him feel exposed.

 

He swallowed, took a deep breath, then opened the door. The long table was set, although it seemed he was the first of his party to arrive. Samothes stood, breathtaking, staring out of one of the tall windows that lined the wall.

 

Hadrian cleared his throat. “Um. My Lord?”

 

Samothes turned, his eye widening a little at the sight of Hadrian.

 

“I, uh… I wasn’t sure what to wear, so… I hope this is alright, I um. I-- He gave me a cloak like this, once, but I-- it got lost, but I thought…”

 

“The clothes you were given are clothes that you called for,” said Samothes.

 

“I… no?” said Hadrian, “They were just what was in the wardrobe.”

 

Samothes nodded. “Yes. You called for them and so they were.”

 

Hadrian glanced down at the loose pants and sheer robe. “Oh.”

 

Samothes smiled, warm around the edges, and Hadrian instantly felt reassured.

 

“Perhaps it is a little much for tonight’s dinner, though,” said Samothes.

 

Hadrian felt his cheeks flush. “Right.”

 

“It seems as though you do have time, if you wish to change again,” said Samothes, gesturing at the empty table.

 

“Right,” said Hadrian, “Sure, I’ll just-- I’ll go change.”

 

He had taken a few steps towards the door when Samothes’ voice stalled him.

 

“Wait,” said Samothes, “there is a closer room where you can change, I’ll escort you. Chapter is already showing your friends to their own rooms, and I would not want you getting lost.”

 

Hadrian nodded. “Thank you, My Lord.”

 

He followed Samothes through the corridors into a small dressing room. It was as clean as any other room they’d come through, everything polished and fresh, but the room seemed unused. The furniture was sparse but beautiful, designed to be as decorative as it was practical.

 

Samothes gestured to the wardrobe. Inside was a simple green jacket and pants, with a single linen shirt. Probably more appropriate for dinner, even for dinner with Samothes.

 

Samothes, who had stepped closer to Hadrian. Samothes wasn’t touching him, but Hadrian could swear that he felt the heat radiating even through the thick cloak.

 

Samothes reached out a hand, putting it lightly on Hadrian’s shoulder. Hadrian managed to suppress his gasp into something more like a sharp inhale.

 

“My Lord?”

 

He turned, careful not to move too quickly as dislodge Samothes’s hand from his shoulder. Samothes flexed his hand, his fingers carding through the fur.

 

“You said my husband gave you a cloak like this one?”

 

“Yes My Lord.”

 

“Perhaps, before you change, you could tell me of how that came to be so.”

 

Hadrian had often wondered what it would be like to feel the gaze of his Lord upon him, to be the focus of even a sliver of Samothes’ attention. Now that he had it, it felt overwhelming to have the entirety of Samothes’s focus resting on him. It took him a moment to find his voice and another to shape words.

 

“He-- we were at the Erasure and we got,  _ I _ got, into a bad situation, where-- it’s a long story, but I was dying, and he… he saved my life.”

 

Samothes didn’t move his gaze from Hadrian, leaning forward. Hadrian’s breath caught in his throat.

 

“And you have seen him again since then?”

 

“I-- a few times,” said Hadrian, “in the kind of dreams that don’t feel like dreams.”

 

“How did he seem?” said Samothes, his voice barely above a murmur.

 

Samothes trailed the fingers of his other hand across Hadrian’s collarbone, where the thick fur of the cloak gave way to the lace collar of the robe. Hadrian’s cheeks were hot, burning up under the gaze of his Lord.

 

He licked his lips, swallowing around his dry throat. “He looked… tired,” said Hadrian, “Beautiful, but tired.”

 

Samothes seemed about to respond then leaned forward instead, capturing Hadrian lips and kissing him slowly. Hadrian gasped, letting Samothes deepen the kiss. Hadrian forgot himself for a moment, clutching at the back of Samothes’ robe, pressing their bodies together. He felt Samothes smile, his hand sliding under the heavy cloak to rest of Hadrian’s sides, hot through the sheer fabric.

 

Hadrian broke off, taking a few unsteady breathes. Samothes blinked down at him.

 

“What was my husband doing,” said Samothes, reaching up to cup Hadrian’s cheek, “when you visited him?”

 

It was hard for Hadrian to focus, pushing his thoughts against the urge to press his body against Samothes’s. Samothes brushed his thumb across Hadrian’s cheekbone, calluses rough against Hadrian’s skin.

 

“He was… He was working,” said Hadrian, “Trying to stop the Heat and the Dark, I think.”

 

Samothes’s smile was fond, the look in his eyes going distant for a moment. “Yes. The does sound like him.” He paused, refocusing on Hadrian. “And what did you speak of, when you saw him.”

 

Hadrian swallowed. “He said to try and keep an open mind.”

 

Samothes huffed a laugh. “That sounds like him, too.”

 

He pulled Hadrian closer to him, letting Hadrian press the length of his body against Samothes, as he felt drawn to do, tilting his head to kiss Hadrian again. Samothes gripped his hips, grinding them together, sending a spike of lightning heat through Hadrian’s body. The movement pulled the already tight fabric of the robe on his chest, feeling as though someone where pinching his nipples. Hadrian whimpered into Samothes’s mouth, clutching at Samothes’s robe and pulling at it so that it slipped down Samothes’ shoulders.

 

Samothes hummed, pulling away for a moment to slip out of his robe entirely. Hadrian moved to do the same but Samothes grabbed his hands. Hadrian froze.

 

“It looks good on you,” said Samothes, “and my husband certainly appreciated you like this. I think it only fair that I get to as well.”

 

Hadrian let out a shaky breath. “Yes My Lord.”

 

“He gave you that robe so that one day I would see you in it and know that he had touched you,” said Samothes, “so that I would know that he had sent you to me.”

 

He leant forwards, his hands still holding Hadrian’s in place, kissing Hadrian deeply. Hadrian let himself be swept away in it, leaning into Samothes, breathing when he breathed, moving as he moved.

 

It wasn’t until his shoulders bumped into the wardrobe behind him that he even realised that Samothes had been walking him backwards. Samothes kissed a trail down his neck, adding more teeth as he reached Hadrian’s chest. Hadrian shuddered. Being pressed between the smooth varnished door of the wardrobe and Samothes gave him barely room to shift his hips. 

 

He whined, arching towards Samothes as much as he was able. He felt Samothes smile against his skin, leaning back up to kiss him again as he rolled his hips against Hadrian. Hadrian moaned, the sound muffled by Samothes’s mouth. 

 

Samothes bit at his bottom lip, teasing the kiss out before he leant back a little, his breath a hot puff of air against Hadrian’s lips. He ran his hands along the cloak, slipping them under to tease his fingers lightly along Hadrian’s chest.

 

“You know,” said Samothes, voice low, “my husband had an outfit that he favoured that looked quite like this.”

 

“Sorry,” said Hadrian.

 

“Don’t be,” said Samothes, leaning in again, “I am sure he would appreciate how you wear it.”

 

Hadrian felt breathless, dizzy, not able to get enough air but barely wanting to stop kissing Samothes for even a moment. Hadrian felt Samothes trail his hands down his sides, a jolt of heat running through him as Samothes pulled down his loose pants, letting them fall to the ground.

 

He let out a moan as Samothes wrapped a hand around him, too far gone to think of quieting himself. Samothes chuckled, the sound of it vibrating where their chests were pressed against one another. He kissed a trail up Hadrian’s jaw.

 

“We had each other like this often,” murmured Samothes, “pulling each other away from dinners and duties. Sometimes we wouldn’t make it back to the dinners at all, going from hidden room to our bedroom, leaving the world to its own devices.”

 

Images flashed in Hadrian’s mind - the bare curve of Samot’s shoulder, Samothes’ breathy laugh, the sensation of fingers scratching against his scalp, pulling his head back. Hadrian’s body followed the memory of a motion, giving Samothes access to mouth at the sensitive skin of his throat. Hadrian moaned again, pressing his face against the cool vanish.

 

He felt Samothes’s fingers press under his chin, forcing him to look up at Samothes. He shuddered under Samothes’ gaze, a hot, tight feeling trapped in his gut, leaving him gasping for air.

 

“Sometimes,” said Samothes, “sometimes he would wear this robe to dinner, just to tease me, just to get me to tease him back in return.”

 

Hadrian’s let out a choked off groan. “My Lord, My-- Samothes, I… I can’t--”

 

He shuddered again, his body trembling with the effort to hold onto himself, to listen to Samothes’ voice. Samothes pressed a more gentle kiss to his lips, a slow heat following it down to the pit of Hadrian’s stomach.

 

“Let me see you as my husband has seen you.”

 

Different visions this time, flickering on the edge of Hadrian’s awareness, fragments of dreams, or of memories - Samot’s golden hair laid out like a halo against the maps of the table underneath him, the curl of Samot’s hand in the fabric of his robes as he pulled Hadrian closer, as he pulled Samothes closer, as memories and dreams collapsed in on themselves, pulsing through Hadrian like lightning.

 

Hadrian was still panting as he came back to himself, dimly aware of Samothes wiping his hand before he moved back towards Hadrian. Hadrian leant towards him, seeking the warmth of him even as he became aware of the trickles of sweat running down his back under the fur cloak. Samothes ran a soothing hand down Hadrian’s back, letting Hadrian rest his face in the crook of his neck.

 

Hadrian swallowed, hesitating before he reached for the waistband of Samothe’s pants. “My Lord, I… I, um… I can…”

 

Samothes smiled. “I’m afraid this may have made us late for dinner with your companions as it is.”

 

“Oh,” said Hadrian.

 

“Later perhaps,” said Samothes, “after dinner, if we are not otherwise occupied.”

 

“Sure,” said Hadrian, a little too fast. He felt his cheeks flush again.

 

He cupped Hadrian’s cheeks for a moment, leaning forwards for one last, lingering kiss before he pulled back, stepping away. Hadrian’s body ached to follow his touch.

 

“You can put the robe in the closet when you change,” said Samothes over his shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll be able to find it if you have need of it again. That is how it works here, at any rate.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
